A How to Wizard Guide Would Be Great
by FanofBellaandEdward
Summary: Harry thought he knew all the important bits about the Wizarding World. Turns out he was wrong, however, and why does nobody ever tell him these things before it's too late? Birthday fic; Harry's pov; implied mature content; MPreg; slash; A/B/O dynamics; more warnings inside
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This story is dedicated to SasuNaruGaaraIta, because it's her birthday today. Happy birthday, sweetheart!**

 **Again this story was supposed to be a oneshot, but well, I was running out of time, so this will be a twoshot *coughs* No surprise there anymore ...**

 **Warnings: Harry's pov; ignores epilogue; slash; implied mature content (for full version, please visit my profile for more information); rather laid back Harry; future MPreg; A/B/O dynamics (though that doesn't appear in this part yet); time skips**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.**

 **Dedicated to: SasuNaruGaaraIta**

 **I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

 _Part 1_

"You're still not ready?" Hermione's annoyed voice drifted upstairs, followed by her footsteps treading the staircase.

He turned around at the same moment his friend appeared in the doorway. "You look nice," he remarked smiling.

She did. Her bushy hair had been tamed in soft, glossy curls which danced around her shoulders whenever she moved. Her lips were coloured a deep rose and her blue eyeshadow made her warm brown eyes pop out. Her robes hugged her body, showing her curves. The blueish-greenish fabric glistened faintly when she crossed her arms.

"Only nice?" she inquired unimpressed, lifting an eyebrow.

Harry smiled impishly, resting his arse against the windowsill. "My apologies. You look absolutely radiant. A goddess amongst us common people. Whatever did we do to deserve your divine presence?"

Rolling her eyes, she fully entered his bedroom. "Oh shut up," she snorted, eyeing him critically. "You're dressed already; I hadn't expected that. And a new outfit too."

He scowled down at his own ensemble of dark green and black robes. "Kingsley threatened to send me to several more 'festivities' if I dared to wear one of my 'old' outfits."

"You sound like you'd much rather battle Voldemort all over again," she remarked wearily amused.

He glowered at her, but didn't reply. To be honest, though, he'd prefer battling a Dark Wizard than having to spend another evening listening to people croon at him and giggle, or worse, trying to press their breasts against him in a weak attempt to seduce him. He had come out of the closet two years ago, but that still didn't deter some women from flirting with him in the assumption that all it would take was a nice face and breasts which nearly spilled out of their robes in order to convince him to go back to the 'right' side.

Needless to say, they all failed in their mission. That didn't make their attempts less annoying, though, and he wasn't looking forward to dodging their advances the whole night. He was quite tempted to cast a Personal Bubble Spell, which would surround him with an invisible bubble and keep people from trying to touch him.

"Come on, it's just for a couple of hours," Hermione said soothingly. "Just show your face, talk with some people and then you can leave again."

"It's the same bullshit every damn year," he grumbled, but followed her out of his room. "How many times are they planning on thanking me? Yes, I killed the bad guy, can we please move the fuck on? It's been eight years for Merlin's sake!"

Used to Harry's complaining every year on this day, Hermione serenely ignored him until they were standing in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled gently, only brought alive to use the Floo network as it was already May and therefore there was no need to keep the fireplace burning.

"A few hours," Hermione reminded him, holding out the small jar with Floo powder.

She received a scowl as answer, but Harry took dutifully a pinch of Floo powder, resigned to his fate.

Just a couple of hours. If he could defeat Voldemort, he could handle people thanking him over and over again and women trying to seduce him. Piece of cake and all that.

Maybe if he told himself that enough times, he might actually start believing it.

* * *

When would be the appropriate time to go home?

That was the question running through Harry's mind as he hid himself in an alcove, keeping out of sight of everyone else. He had been at the Memorial Day Ball for two hours now and had given his speech – the same damn one he gave every year, but the crowd didn't seem to notice or care. So far he had been accosted six times already by women who thought they had a shot with him – it would have been nine times, but Ron had managed to rescue him those three other times.

His friend had been roped into a conversation with one of the Chudley Cannons Chasers, however, and Harry could hardly expect his friend to keep saving him when he had the opportunity to talk to someone of his favourite Quidditch team. Still, his help would have been very much appreciated …

He had lost sight of Hermione as well; perhaps she was talking to a Ministry employee, hoping to win them for her cause – that of securing proper rights for all kinds of creatures. He shouldn't expect any help from her either.

Two hours was enough, though, right? He had shown his face, had given that damn speech, had talked to some people … More wasn't necessary.

"You'd think by now the public would realise where your hiding place is. Seeing as it's the same one every year," a voice drawled right next to him.

Only his desire to not attract any unwanted attention kept him from whipping out his wand and shooting off a spell in reaction to being surprised.

"Damn it, Malfoy," Harry sighed, dropping his hand from where it had shot down to grip his wand. "Can't you announce your presence in a more normal way?"

The blond wizard straightened out from where he had been leaning against the side of the alcove and moved, coming into full view of Harry. As always the git was impeccably dressed, wearing tailored robes which was made of some kind of shimmery midnight blue cloth and which made his stone grey eyes stand out.

"Can't you search a new hiding place?" Malfoy smirked, crossing his arms. "Whatever would you do if one of your precious fans found you?"

"So far you're the only one who's been able to find me," Harry huffed, relaxing against the wall again. "So I don't see the need to find a new spot, thanks."

He wouldn't even try to deny that he was hiding from the other attendees; doing that would be an insult to the both of them.

Eyeing Malfoy, he added, "I didn't see you for the past two hours. Did you only just arrive?"

"Oh, did you miss me, Potter?" Malfoy purred, gliding – because there was no other way to describe the way he moved right now – towards the dark haired man.

Now they were both hidden behind the alcove; Harry pressing himself further into the wall when Malfoy leant forwards. His blond hair caressed his cheeks, forming a curtain, but it wasn't enough to disguise the way his eyes were glittering almost feverishly.

"As loathe as I am to admit it, you make for far better company than ninety percent of the people present here," Harry answered dryly.

"I'm flattered," Malfoy smirked. "As for your question: ever heard of being fashionably late?"

"Ever heard of being on time?" Harry shot back, watching with a quirked eyebrow how Malfoy sidled up even closer to him, bracing one arm against the wall next to Harry's head.

Three years ago Malfoy's close proximity would have had alarm bells going off in his head and he would have already increased the distance between them, maybe even cursed him if the situation felt particularly threatening.

They had grown up, though, and now it was curiosity he felt at Malfoy's proximity instead of feeling threatened and on edge. Spending a lot of time together to capture a rogue Potions Master had forced them to get to know each other in a whole different light. He wouldn't say they had become best friends or even close friends, but at least they weren't trying to kill each other anymore.

Now, they …

"I'm only on time for things which are actually worth my time," Malfoy murmured.

Instantly the air between them shifted, became charged with a tension that was different from the one they had experienced during Hogwarts. The chattering outside the alcove, the shuffling of feet, the laughter, the giggling, the squeaky noises of house elves who were carrying around trays with champagne … All that noise fell away, became nothing more than vague background noise which didn't even register in Harry's mind anymore.

"And what do you consider worth your time?" Harry hummed, keeping his face blank, but that became difficult when Malfoy leant even closer and his nose was assaulted by the other man's scent. There was that spicy tone of the cologne he preferred, naturally, but underneath that was his natural scent, which smelt far more pleasing than it had any right to.

A smile unfurled slowly across Malfoy's lips and his fingers slipped in Harry's hair, gripping the strands tightly, not allowing the other man to move even an inch. He lowered his head until his mouth was hovering right in front of Harry's and their lips touched fleetingly when he whispered, "Why don't I show you?" His eyes shone bright with the challenge he had just uttered, bright and dangerous, and all too inviting.

Harry had never been able to refuse a challenge.

* * *

They had been flirting with each other for months now. Harry couldn't remember who had started it, but their snarky exchanges slowly became interspersed with flirty remarks; the both of them trying to find out how far they could push each other.

Hermione had called it a natural evolution from the tension that had lingered between them throughout their schoolyears. Now that there was no longer a war pitting them against each other, she had said, they were free to get to know each other better. But, she had added with a smirk, she had always suspected there was more between them than just school rivalry.

Harry didn't particularly care why his interactions between him and Malfoy had altered. The blond wizard was no longer trying to kill him or get him killed, which was a plus in Harry's opinion, and well, he quite enjoyed the flirting banter between them.

It didn't hurt either that Malfoy had grown up to be quite handsome – not that he would ever tell Malfoy that. The man was already arrogant enough.

The fire had barely spit them out when Malfoy whirled them around and slammed Harry into the wall next to the fireplace. The back of his head smarted at the impact and he hissed, but the sound was swallowed up by Malfoy's lips and okay, yeah, he was definitely on board with this.

Never one to be outdone – especially not by _Malfoy_ – Harry returned the heated kiss with equal force, parting his lips when he felt a tongue sweeping past them. Malfoy did not waste a second and soon their tongues were curling around each other, brushing past teeth and palates. They pulled back at the same moment, the need for air apparent in how quickly their chests heaved up and down; their lungs trying to inhale the oxygen they had been deprived of during their kissing.

Before Harry could say anything – what, he hadn't decided yet – Malfoy pulled his head to the side by gripping his hair tightly and his mouth latched onto a spot right underneath Harry's right ear, sucking the skin between his teeth. His body jolted at the unexpected sensation and his hands clamped down on Malfoy's shoulders, squeezing them tightly when teeth nipped at the sore spot in his neck.

A knee nudged between his legs and when he spread them slightly, a firm thigh slid between them, opening them further. Malfoy took a step closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other, and even through the layers of clothes, their mutual arousal was undeniable. As lips slipped down, brushing right above his collar, fingers fiddled with the clasp of his cloak. The black cloak pooled around his ankles and the removal of it stirred Harry into action, his right hand sliding down to open the clasp of Malfoy's cloak.

The fabric had barely slipped off Malfoy's shoulders when Harry felt fingers hastily popping open the buttons of his robes. The thigh between his legs was pushed up higher and a choking noise escaped him when a knee pressed firmly against his groin.

"B-bed," he stuttered and Malfoy pulled back with a smirk, dropping his hands and lowering his leg.

"After you," he said haughtily, taking a step back, but the effect was ruined by his flushed cheeks and the way his eyes glittered feverishly.

Harry just snatched his wrist and tugged him along, ignoring his noise of protest. The blond followed him all too willingly, though, staying as close to Harry as the staircase allowed him. Harry stumbled over the second to last step when a devious hand palmed his arse and even without turning around to look, he knew the bastard was smirking again. Well, he would just have to wipe off that smirk soon, hm?

The second they were both on the landing, just a couple of feet away from Harry's bedroom, lips attacked his own again; the kiss quickly becoming heated as they staggered their way into the bedroom, miraculously avoiding falling flat on their face.

What followed was a frenzy of removing clothes: buttons were impatiently popped open with one button not surviving the onslaught when Malfoy pulled a bit too roughly at the robes. Harry would have protested – it wasn't as if these robes had been cheap – but he was far too preoccupied with getting Malfoy naked as soon as possible. They stepped out of their robes, leaving them in a heap on the floor before hastily getting rid of their underwear and socks, throwing them somewhere in the room.

The bed was still unmade and Malfoy clucked his tongue in disapproval, but Harry pushed him down and crawled into his lap before he could utter any disparaging remarks. Their hips brushed against each other and Malfoy's groan vibrated against Harry's mouth, before hands landed on his arse and started kneading his cheeks roughly, making him press back into them with a soft gasp.

His glasses were plucked off his face before he could react and he exclaimed, "Hey!" as his vision became slightly blurry. There was the soft 'tick' sound as they were discarded on the nightstand and then the hand was back on his arse, fingers slipping briefly between his cheeks to brush teasingly against his entrance.

"You look better without them," Malfoy stated flippantly, but his breath audibly halted when Harry flicked his thumbs over his nipples, rubbing over them until they turned into hard pebbles underneath his touch.

Malfoy shivered, bucking his hips up, and this time it was Harry who smirked, pleased to have found out just how sensitive Malfoy was there. Trailing kisses from a sharp jaw, over Malfoy's throat, lingering right above his collarbone, Harry let his hands drift downwards, caressing a firm stomach, hyperaware of how the abdominal muscles tensed up before relaxing slightly. Right when his fingers brushed across Malfoy's lower stomach, aiming to grip him lower, he was suddenly twisted around and all the air in his lungs left him like he had been punched when he landed flat on his back on the mattress.

His view of the white ceiling was blocked when Malfoy's face appeared above him; his legs nudging Harry's apart so that he could lie in between them.

"That impatient?" Harry questioned, slightly more breathless than he would have liked to sound, but there was no helping that.

Not when Malfoy dipped his head down and sucked his left nipple between his lips; his teeth tugging lightly on it. The sudden spark of pleasure pain had Harry biting down on his lower lip, muffling a moan as his hand landed on blond hair, his fingers curling around the strands and pushing down in silent encouragement.

His mouth dropped open in a soundless 'o' when a hand closed around him, pumping up and down slowly; a thumb flicking teasingly every time the hand moved up.

"Got any lube?" Malfoy asked roughly; his eyes glinting brightly as they roved across Harry's body, lingering at his groin for a bit before they shot back to his face.

It took a couple of seconds for his brain to translate the question; the pleasure running up and down his spine and the constant heat around his member making it difficult for him to concentrate. "Eh yeah, top drawer," he mumbled, leaning up to kiss Malfoy's neck, not about to be outdone by the blond menace.

They had left their wands downstairs, discarded somewhere on the couch, so Malfoy stretched out his arm and grappled at the handle of the top drawer, tilting his head unconsciously to the side to give Harry more room. He tugged open the drawer roughly, riffling through the content and a huff left him. When he pulled back to sit up on his knees, he was holding the bottle of lubrication in his hand.

Idly Harry ran his hands up and down Malfoy's legs, avoiding his crotch even when Malfoy impatiently pushed his hips forwards.

"Bloody tease," Malfoy snapped and glowered at the man underneath him. A bruise was already blooming in his neck from where Harry had worried the skin and the dark haired man was pretty sure his own neck was in a similar state.

"Are you going to open that bottle?" Harry nodded towards the lube, but he couldn't supress a grin when grey eyes narrowed slightly.

"Maybe I should leave you hanging," Malfoy threatened; his free hand clamping down on Harry's hip, his nails digging in his flesh.

"And deprive yourself?" Harry smirked, ranking his nails down pale thighs, making the blond jump. "You wouldn't."

"You're getting far too cheeky, Potter," Malfoy growled and grabbed Harry's right leg, roughly pushing it aside, opening him up. A pillow was stuffed underneath his arse, propping him up and giving Malfoy more access.

"And you're getting slow in your age, Malfoy," Harry taunted and then sucked his teeth when a thumb pressed against his entrance, not pushing in yet, but rubbing slowly across it.

"You were saying?" Malfoy smirked and then his thumb was replaced by a slick index finger which slipped inside without any warning, causing Harry to clamp down on the digit in surprise.

"Tsss, a little bit of warning would have been nice, bastard," Harry hissed darkly and yelped when teeth nipped his right nipple; blonds strands tickling his chest.

"My thumb wasn't warning enough?" Malfoy clucked his tongue, slipping out his finger to add a second one. "You're a lost cause then, Potter."

"Shut up," Harry muttered, forcing himself to relax his muscles and not tighten around the intrusion.

"Great comeback," Malfoy snorted and Harry opened his mouth to retort, but instead a loud moan escaped him when fingers brushed against his hidden spot, instantly sending a burst of pleasure through his system.

Malfoy grinned. "Found it," he muttered and covered Harry's mouth once more, swallowing up his throaty groan as he kept pressing against the gland as much as he could, rotating and spreading his fingers all the while to stretch the dark haired man properly.

A third finger was quickly added, rubbing along his inner muscles walls and green eyes crossed briefly. He shuddered as the pleasure steadily built up, setting his nerves on fire. His hands were gliding across smooth skin, lingering briefly across the slightly raised ridges of the Sectumsempra scars, before he moved them down again, across sides and along a tensed up lower belly. He had apologised for his attack during their sixth year and he knew Malfoy preferred not to mention it ever again. Instead he slipped his hands up again, over strong shoulders and down a firm back, accidentally scratching red lines in Malfoy's skin when three fingers pressed firmly against his sweet spot and a jolt of pleasure shot through his entire body.

Swollen lips left his own, smoothing across his cheek, before they hovered near his ear. As fingers kept pumping in and out Harry, mimicking the action that would soon – _preferably really soon_ – follow, Malfoy asked lowly, "You're not an O-type, right?"

 _I'm not a … what?_ Harry blinked, trying to decipher the question through the fog of pleasure which had descended upon his mind. Was he talking about blood types? Was there some kind of ridiculous rule Purebloods had made up that they couldn't sleep with someone if they had a particular blood type?

He voiced his protest when the fingers inside him stilled and Malfoy huffed, pulling back slightly to peer down at him. "Well? Are you?" he questioned impatiently, shifting around between Harry's legs and brushing against his inner thigh.

Too caught up in the pleasure – and becoming impatient for the next event – he decided not to even bother asking why the hell Malfoy was so interested in his blood type and muttered, "No.", recalling that he had blood type A. Not that that mattered right now; all that mattered – should matter – was getting fucked right now by the infuriating blond between his legs.

Swinging his legs up, he crossed them behind Malfoy's back and used his foot to tap Malfoy's arse, nearly bringing him out of balance. "Get a move on or do I have to do it myself?" he huffed, biting quickly down in the junction between Malfoy's neck and shoulder, feeling him jump underneath his teeth.

"Like it would be that good if you did it by yourself," Malfoy retorted arrogantly, but Harry's complaint had done the trick. His fingers retreated, leaving Harry to clench around the sudden emptiness, and then the bottle cap was popped open again and Malfoy wrapped a slick hand around himself, spreading the lube out.

Harry pulled his legs up, bracing his feet against the mattress, the discarded sheets touching his toes, and Malfoy shuffled closer, rubbing their groins together.

"Ready?" he asked; his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed.

"Yeah, go on," Harry said and then his breath hitched and his fingers clamped down around slender forearms when Malfoy nudged against his entrance, pushing swiftly inside, aided by the lube.

Malfoy kept pressing forwards, sliding his entire length in Harry at once, not pausing until his hips rested flush against Harry's buttocks. They both panted; Malfoy with his eyes screwed shut, Harry trying to adjust around the intrusion. Damnit, Malfoy hadn't seemed that big …

He breathed out slowly, relaxing his muscles one by one, and the vague burning sensation radiating from his lower back diminished slightly. That would have to do for now. He slipped his arms around Malfoy's neck and grey eyes opened, gazing down at him.

"Can I move?" he requested, but his hips were already thrusting almost imperceptibly as he supported his weight on his hands on either side of Harry's head.

"Yeah, move," Harry sighed and there was a quick flash of white teeth before Malfoy pulled back, paused for a few seconds, and then slammed back inside, shoving Harry up towards the headboard.

They set up a quick, harsh rhythm; their mouths finding each other again in sloppy kisses, breathy 'ha, ha, ha's' escaping them, their breath caressing their lips and chins.

The mattress squeaked, the pillow whispered underneath dark strands and the bed creaked with the occasional too hard thrust. A whimper couldn't be hold back when Malfoy swivelled his hips around a bit before thrusting back inside; the new position allowing him to brush across Harry's sweet spot.

A shark like grin graced reddened lips when Malfoy picked up the sound and he shifted slightly, a look of concentration passing his face before …

Harry shouted, his fingers digging into Malfoy's back, when his sweet spot was assaulted dead on. From there on Malfoy seemed intent on abusing him there, most of his thrusts striking it fully, driving up the pleasure to almost impossible levels.

Harry was babbling something, he was aware of his mouth moving, but he couldn't hear himself talk through the loud rushing in his ears. His limbs were tightly wound around Malfoy's shoulders and waist and he let himself be rocked back and forth across the bed; moans and groans and swallowed down whimpers filling the air between them. Sweat coated their bodies, making them sticky and Harry's member was leaking profusely, pressed between their stomachs.

Then a hand, hot, slick, wrapped around him while lips covered his own in a deep, all-consuming kiss. A tongue touched his own, Malfoy's moan muffled against his mouth, and Harry came undone. Arching his back, a scream tore through his throat when he came, soaking both his stomach and Malfoy's, as white light flashed behind his closed eyes. Shuddering and trembling in the aftermath of his climax, he was vaguely aware of Malfoy stiffening in his hold before the man buried his face in Harry's neck and lowly moaned; his hips stuttering to a stop.

They laid there panting for a while until the tremors in Harry's body subsided and he started cooling off, his sweat drying. Malfoy began to feel like dead weight on top of him and he groaned exhaustedly, pushing against Malfoy's shoulders.

"You're heavy," he mumbled and Malfoy grunted something in protest, but flopped down next to him, running a hand through his hair to push the sweaty, blond strands back.

Too lazy to get up and take a shower, Harry lamented the fact that they had left their wands downstairs. Well, it wasn't like he would die from not taking a shower now. Still, he made an attempt to get up, figuring he could at least retrieve his wand.

"Eugh, stop moving, Potter, and go to sleep," Malfoy muttered, his hand clamping down around Harry's wrist and holding him back.

When the dark haired man turned around to look at him, he smiled amused at the sight of Malfoy with incredibly messed up hair, eyes closed already.

"Yes, your majesty," Harry snarked, but dropped down again, tugging the blanket over the both of them.

It didn't take long for sleep to capture him, aided by the rhythmic soft breathing of the man sleeping next to him.

* * *

The one nightstand turned into two nightstands, then three, then four, then five …

They ended up sleeping together at least once nearly every week. They didn't talk about this sudden change in their so far amicable relationship; they enjoyed the sex and that was that. No complications, no drama.

Malfoy's birthday had Harry showing up at Malfoy Manor, together with Andromeda and his godson Teddy, who had turned eight a couple of months ago. This wasn't the first time Harry had attended Malfoy's birthday party; last year he had been present as well, but it was different now. As Teddy chattered brightly about his lessons, waiting for the cake to be cut, green eyes exchanged heated glances with grey ones, promising things which weren't appropriate to say aloud near the people present. Harry took care to only touch Malfoy fleetingly, teasingly brushing against his inner wrist, his hand, his arm, his shoulder, his neck when nobody was looking …

He stroked Malfoy's ankle with his foot underneath the table as they ate the vanilla and chocolate cake and had to hide a grin behind his glass of pumpkin juice when Malfoy slammed his knee into the table and swore. Malfoy's glare promised retribution, but Harry simply quirked an eyebrow challengingly.

 _Bring it on._

And bring it on, Malfoy did. When Harry opened his front door after incessant knocking that evening – he hadn't yet completed a Floo connection with Malfoy Manor – he had just enough time to laugh before Malfoy was all over him. The ache in his back from being slammed into the wall and fucked right there in the hallway was more than worth it.

* * *

They started having more casual meetings – meetings that didn't end in sex – a couple of weeks after Harry's birthday. Malfoy would join him for lunch at the Ministry or just bug him in the middle of his work if he got into a particular mood.

Ron was quite creeped out by Malfoy's continued presence in Harry's life – and by extent his whenever the blond wizard plopped his arse down in their office – but kept quiet about it.

"It's your life, mate," Ron said when Harry questioned him about his odd acquiescence one day in September. "If you're happy, then fine with me. Just tell him I'll break more than his nose alone if he hurts you in any way."

Harry wanted to point out that they were not a couple and therefore there was no need for Ron to act the part of the protective best friend, but shrugged it off in the end. Who cared what made Ron act civil towards Malfoy? Harry didn't have to act like some kind of referee between the two of them and that was good enough.

* * *

October brought some changes with it.

Somewhere along the way 'Malfoy' had become 'Draco' in Harry's mind, but he had never called the other wizard by his first name before. That all changed when Harry was forced to remain in bed one morning, having been hit by the Fever Heat Curse the night before. He had been chasing some Dark Wizards in the middle of London and while he and Ron had managed to catch them, one of the men had managed to hit him with the curse before he could deflect it. Fortunately for him the Healer had discovered quickly which curse it had been and so he only needed to remain on bed rest for three days while ingesting the potion specifically meant to cure the Fever Heat Curse.

If left untreated the curse could be quite deadly, but the potion would flush all remnants of the curse out of his system.

That didn't mean Harry had to enjoy his current situation, though.

"Don't get up, she said," he grumbled, shifting to lie on his right side, scowling at the open doorway of his bedroom. "It's just a fever! I've had worse."

Hermione had stopped by to deliver the potions and had been immitigable: Harry was to stay in bed and rest – "And don't think I won't find out if you ignored the Healer's orders, Harry!" – and drink the potion every five hours. He very much disliked the potion, though, because it made him …

The sound of the Floo flaring to life had him perking up; was Ron going to keep him company? Maybe he had even brought one of their cases with him and then Harry could still do something while being on forced bedrest.

It wasn't Ron, however, who appeared in the doorway, but Malfoy, who raised an eyebrow.

"So you're actually in bed, following the Healer's orders? Well, colour me impressed," he remarked with a light sneer, entering the room fully.

Harry frowned, turning to lie on his back. "What are you doing here? How did you know I was sick?"

Grey eyes rolled as the owner of them approached the bed. "The whole Auror department is gossiping about it. It wasn't that difficult to discover all the details."

Harry scowled down at his light green sheets; his colleagues really should learn to keep a handle on the gossip.

"Sorry, but I'm not really feeling up to any fun activities," Harry smiled weakly; a headache creeping up on him again. The pain pulsed lowly at his temples and he felt himself becoming warmer; he wouldn't be surprised if his cheeks were resembling a tomato at the moment.

"Screwing sick people isn't one of my kinks," Malfoy said dryly and to Harry's surprise, he sank down on the bed next to him and felt his forehead carefully.

The slender, cold hand – still carrying the faint traces of a yellow coloured potion – felt heavenly against his forehead and Harry pressed into the palm with a quiet moan.

"You're starting to burn up," Malfoy commented calmly and went to pull back his hand.

A soft whimper of protest escaped Harry before he could stop it and Malfoy rested his hand on his forehead once more. "Have you taken your medicine yet?"

"No," Harry mumbled petulantly, eying the dark green vial on his nightstand with a heavy glower.

"Hasn't it been five hours since you left Saint Mungos?" Harry's silence was apparently enough as answer, because Malfoy snorted and snatched the vial from the dark blue nightstand. "Come on then. Can't have you dying from a fever after winning a war."

Only the reminder that he would be out for longer than three days if he didn't take the medicine now, had Harry sitting up and accepting the vial. The potion tasted vile like always with a bittersweet aftertaste and he handed the bottle back with a grimace. Almost immediately he started feeling drowsy – the side effect he loathed so much. He didn't mind so much feeling drowsy, but when that drowsiness was induced by a potion, it always left him with an uncomfortable feeling. Like his guards were completely lowered and he wouldn't be ready for a possible attack.

"See, that wasn't so difficult now, was it?" the blond smirked and started rising up again as if prepared to leave.

Harry's hand shot out, his fingers clasping around a pale wrist and grey eyes regarded him surprised.

Eyes half lidded, speech slurred with sleep, Harry managed to mutter, "Can you stay? Draco?"

The name slipped out of his mouth without any warning and there was a part in him screaming and running around alarmed, terrified that some kind of barrier had been torn down all of a sudden. The rest of him was too sleepy to actually start panicking and had him blinking owlishly at the other man.

Surprise made way for a softer look and the older wizard inclined his head. "Sure; I'll stay as long as you'll like." A pause. "Harry."

Oddly Harry's chest glowed with warmth at hearing _his_ name leaving _Draco's_ mouth, but before he could say anything else, he promptly fell asleep.

Draco's hand clutched in his own.

* * *

The end of October was filled with harsh, howling wind and a lot of rain. In fact it was the sound of big, fat raindrops hitting the window and dripping down the glass which woke Harry up one morning.

Face half mushed into his pillow, he reached out blindly with his arm, patting the space next to him. There was no body occupying the bed next to him and judging by how cool the mattress felt, his lover must have left the bed a while ago already.

Harry rolled himself onto his back and yawned loudly, stretching his arms and legs; a slight twinge of pain radiating in his lower back. At the reminder of what they had done last night, he smiled and he sat up, swinging his legs out of the large bed with its ridiculously comfortable mattress and pillows. A quick check of the clock revealed he still had at least a few hours before Andromeda would expect him to pick up Teddy so they could go watch the Quidditch game between the Falmouth Falcons and the Montrose Magpies.

He retrieved a fresh pair of underwear from the drawer which Draco had gifted him a few weeks ago, so that he didn't always have to make a quick stop at his own house to change into some fresh clothes. He wasn't in the mood yet to decide on an outfit for today – and knowing Draco, he would just disapprove of whatever Harry chose and select an outfit for him – so he closed the drawer again and scooped off Draco's shirt from the floor, shrugging it on. It ended right in the middle of his arse, not even covering his boxers, but Harry wasn't bothered by it.

It was just him and Draco anyway and the blond had made it clear on various occasions just how much he loved seeing Harry in his clothes.

"Hey, Draco," he called out as he descended the stairs and padded on bare feet towards the kitchen. "Do you think you have time to join me and …" he trailed off, coming to an abrupt stop in the kitchen doorway when he realised that Draco was not alone in the kitchen at all.

Nope, not alone, because sitting right there next to him was his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, who looked at him calmly as if the sight of a barely dressed man in the kitchen of her son didn't faze her at all.

"Eh, hello, Mrs. Malfoy," he greeted her belatedly, staring at her wide eyed. "I, eh, I didn't know you'd be here," he added lamely, praying that his face wasn't as red as he feared it was.

Draco, the bastard, was laughing at him with his eyes, holding a mug against his mouth.

"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Malfoy greeted calmly. She quirked an eyebrow. "Why don't you get dressed and join us for breakfast?"

"Right, eh, I'm going to do that," he stammered and yeah, that arsehole was definitely smirking, enjoying his discomfort, the sadistic bastard.

"Oh and Harry?"

He turned his head, catching his hand against the doorjamb. "Yes, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Call me Narcissa, dear. I dare say we're past being formal acquaintances," she smiled and was that a hint of amusement lurking in her deep blue eyes?

"Right, yeah, Narcissa, got it," Harry said and then hurried upstairs before he could make an even bigger fool of himself.

That bastard was going to pay for not warning him.

* * *

Harry sank down besides Draco, who was still trembling, eyes wide and pupils so big they nearly overtook the grey colour. As punishment for not warning him sooner that Narcissa would come over, Harry had spent several hours tonight bringing Draco close to the edge of release over and over again before cruelly denying him his climax every time. When fingers had dug into his hips and a weak, "Please, Harry, let me," had left the high-strung blond, Harry had finally given in, deciding Draco had been punished enough.

Now they laid side by side, Draco looking worn out and completely spent, not even reacting when Harry turned to lie on his side and draw lazy circles on his stomach.

Thinking back to Narcissa's calm reaction this morning, as if she had expected to see him here instead of being surprised, Harry wondered aloud, "Are we a couple?"

He turned his head so that he could look Draco in the eyes, wrapping his arm around his waist. Draco brought his own arm around Harry's hip, clutching him tighter against him. "If you want to be," he replied, sighing softly.

Harry thought back at the past six months and the way they had gradually changed in that time. They had gone from only occasionally sharing a bed, to sharing lunches, going to Quidditch games together, Draco taking care of him when he was sick, them becoming 'Draco' and 'Harry' instead of remaining 'Malfoy' and 'Potter' … It was hard to believe things between them had changed so much in just six months, but it didn't feel bad either.

It felt … right, somehow. The thought of being a couple, of being officially together and not just hooking up was something he quite enjoyed he discovered.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he admitted softly.

"I'd like that too," Draco confessed and Harry grinned, lifting his head up so that they could share a soft kiss.

Their first official kiss as a couple. That thought made him giddy and he still had a grin plastered on his face when he laid down again, resting his head on Draco's shoulder.

Things were really looking up for him, he mused right before falling asleep; his legs intertwined with Draco's.

* * *

Which was why of course his world was abruptly turned upside down two weeks later.

* * *

 **AN2: The whole Alpha, Beta, Omega dynamics and how that is tied with them still being wizards/witches is something that will be explained in the next part.**

 **I hope the first chapter wasn't too bad! It wasn't easy to write at times, so I hope I didn't screw up too badly *winces* Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.**

 **I hope to see you all back in the next part! I wish you all a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/insert holiday you celebrate!**

 **Cuddles**

 **Melissa**

 **P.S. For more information about my upcoming and posted stories, please visit my profile.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Well, this turned out to be quite longer than expected *coughs* And a bit more dramatic as well at times, but that couldn't be really avoided. Overall, though, I don't think it's too heavy ^^ With this chapter my first steps into the A/B/O world for Harry Potter are finished, but this probably won't be the last fic of mine with that particular theme for Harry Potter LOL We'll see what my mind comes up with.**

 **Thanks to the following reviewers: Gina-luliana; DheeDixon; Baxter87; Ageha Yume; neneksihir; Ern Estine 13624; cookyc; SehunsBae37; Rei . Avi; The Griffindor Hatstall; yukino76; delia cerrano; littlesprout; Sweetciel; TheBeauty; Ariadne; babyvfan; kirsty21; HibarixTsunaxlover; AlyssJocelyn; Josephine78; Hakudoushi kawaii ne**

 **Warnings: MPreg; references to mass murder in history; some drama; sprinkle of angst; abortion is referenced, but never carried out**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.**

 **I hope you'll like this last part!**

* * *

 _Part 2_

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry sighed, fending off her hands which kept turning his head to the left and then to the right again as she checked the cut on his forehead. "Stop fussing so much."

"You were attacked," Hermione said snippily, but took a step back as she frowned. "It was serious enough to land you in the _hospital_."

"Only because my colleagues like to overreact," he growled, shifting on the hard examination bed. How long would he have to stay here? Surely it didn't take that long to check his results? "Where's Ron?"

"He's gone back to the Ministry," she replied and clucked her tongue when he pulled his head out of her reach.

"Why does he get to go - "

"Because he wasn't as badly hurt as you were!"

"Please tell me at least that nobody contacted Draco," he sighed, rubbing his forehead, careful to keep away from the cut he had sustained. The blood had finally stopped flowing and he didn't want to disrupt the thin crust forming over the cut.

"You're probably the only one who doesn't want their partner to know they got hurt," she said darkly, crossing her arms.

"He would get worried about nothing." Green eyes rolled exasperatedly. "I've had worse, Hermione. They're basically just cuts and some bruises; nothing I haven't had before."

"You were unconscious!" Hermione snapped; her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

"Not for very long!" Harry retorted dismissively.

"Will you quit being so damn st-"

The door swung open, cutting off what would probably have been a spectacular rant. Hermione pursed her lips tightly together, but stepped to the side, making way for the Healer. The silver grey haired man – looking close to his fifties – shut the door behind him; a bunch of papers was pressed between his left arm and his side.

"Apologies for the wait," Healer Edward Stone smiled apologetically, coming to a stop in front of Harry. "I just needed to check your results again to make sure there wasn't any mistake made."

"Mistake?" Hermione repeated sharply before Harry could open his mouth. She visibly tensed up and she braced herself with her hands on the mattress. "What kind of mistake could have been made?"

Stone smiled reassuringly. "Nothing in the bad sense, I assure you."

"So, what do my results say?" Harry asked, but couldn't supress the small note of impatience creeping into his voice. He had been here for more than an hour already and he just wanted to get back to his work and finish that damn report he had been working on before he had been called up to assist other Aurors.

"You have a couple of bruises near your shoulders and your right leg, but those should be healed soon if you rub the Balming Potion on them," Stone explained, flicking through the papers he had brought with him. "The couple of cuts you sustained will heal without leaving any scarring behind. That's the extent of your damage, Mister Potter. You've been quite lucky."

"See, 'Mione, I told you I'm fine!" Harry pointed out triumphantly and jumped off the examination table. "So I'm good to go, right?"

"Yes, but before you leave, I have one more thing to say," Stone said; his dark brown eyes glittering merrily.

"Okay," Harry said slowly and blinked. "What?"

"Well, I want to congratulate you, Mister Potter!"

"Congratulate me for what?" he asked warily, wondering whether this would be yet another 'Thank you for saving the Wizarding World!' moment. He had had more than enough of those in the past several years now.

"With your pregnancy, of course!"

 _What._

* * *

The history books spoke of wizards and witches pretending to die when being burnt at the stake or killed in various other ways during the magical prosecutions spread out through humanity's history. They had magic – as if they would let some mere Muggles get the best of them. That was certainly true – for a very small minority of them.

What history books conveniently forgot to mention every time was that only wizards and witches capable of wandless magic were able to deceive their executioners. All the others who had to rely on their wands to cast magic perished, their wands destroyed in front of their eyes.

Before the magical community was founded and ways to avoid detection were created, wizards and witches had to lie low, hide every shred of evidence that proved they were not Muggles. As a result most families tended to be small; they lived longer than Muggles, yes, but doing so and having multiple healthy children while others died at a young age would attract attention – the wrong kind at that. So most families only had one or two children, sometimes three.

Then the witch hunts happened. Again. And again. Families were ripped apart; whole households destroyed in the name of vanquishing the evil. Magical blood thinned out; less and less magical children were born as people were too afraid to have them, terrified they would lose them if they were caught.

Magical people were on the brick of extinction.

Nature was on their side, though. Nature wouldn't allow Muggles to wipe them off the face of the earth. The whole of Wizarding kind underwent physical changes. No longer would only their magic set them aside from the general population; no, the moment people reached the age of maturity, at seventeen years, their bodies would endure changes, turning them into one of the – as they later would be called – Three Classes.

Alpha, Beta and Omega.

People who carried the Alpha gene generally turned out to be faster, stronger after going through the Change; their magic gaining an equal boost. Beta wizards and witches didn't change that much; usually the change was limited to a slight boost in their magic.

Omega didn't differ that much from the Beta – except when the Omega was a man. To combat the dwindling numbers of wizards and witches, nature had assured that more people were able to bear children – the act of giving life was no longer solely restricted to women. Omega men were granted that right as well, ensuring that their people wouldn't die out.

Nobody knew when exactly these particular genes had appeared. Did it start in the Antiquity or the Middle Ages? When did their ancestors realise they were capable of doing more than magic alone? Those particular bits of facts were obscured in history as nobody had found any specific writings about it.

All they knew was that on the age of seventeen, wizards and witches would discover whether they were an Alpha, a Beta or an Omega. Guardians had the important task of informing the child what to expect and what the Three Classes meant before the child in question would turn seventeen years old. Every child knew what to expect long before it happened.

Every child except for Harry that is.

"So, because of this whole Alpha, Omega bullshit kind of thing, I'm – I'm pregnant now?" Harry thought he could be forgiven for sounding nearly hysterical at this point.

"It's not bullshit, Harry," Hermione admonished him, but there was no heat in her voice, knowing how distressed her friend was now. Her brown eyes were tracking him as he paced back and forth in his living room. "The Three Classes ensure that the Wizarding population won't become extinct in the event of another attempted witch hunt." Her upper lip curled up in disgust.

As a Muggleborn and an avid reader, she had the advantage of knowing just how many people had been killed throughout history because of their use of magic. What the magical history books kept quiet, couldn't be hidden in Muggle books.

"But, but, it just doesn't make any sense!" he exploded, coming to a stop in front of the fireplace. The flames were licking eagerly at the wooden blocks he had thrown in the hearth this morning, spreading its heat throughout the room. Despite standing right in front of the fire, though, he felt cold as if the warmth was incapable of surrounding him and he wrapped his arms around him, trying to make sense of everything he had just heard.

He was what they called an Omega apparently and because of that, he was pregnant. Carrying a child. Knocked up. Up the duff. Expecting a child.

 _ **Fuck, he was carrying Draco's child.**_

"It makes perfect sense when you consider how evolution had a hand in …" she started to explain, but he cut her off, not in the mood to appreciate the science lecture.

"Why did nobody ever tell me about this?!" He kicked the leg of the coffee table in anger, not even registering the stinging pain that followed swiftly as his foot connected with the hard, unforgiving wood.

"You really didn't know?" Hermione stilled; her eyes wide in her pale face. She was sitting on the couch; her hands folded in her lap. She had followed him to his home or more accurately, she had guided his shell-shocked body towards his home, reassuring a confused Stone that everything was all right, really, my friend is just very surprised!

Surprised felt like a heavy understatement when Harry tried to make sense of what he felt.

He whirled around to face her; his furious eyes pinning her. "How the hell could I have known about this, Hermione?! Please enlighten me when the fuck I could have heard about this whole Three Classes tripe!"

"I just figured you would have looked it up in a book or …"

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "How could I have looked something up if I didn't even know it existed in the first place? Why did you never say anything about it?"

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and sighed softly. "Because you're not supposed to just casually talk about it with friends," she explained gently. "The Three Classes are something very private, Harry. The people in charge of the child tell them what to expect when the time comes."

"How come you know about it then? Your parents are Muggle." For a moment Harry was distracted by this glaring hole in her explanation.

"The Head of the House becomes the guardian of Muggleborns for magic related affairs," she replied patiently. "Professor McGonagall gave me the information when I was fifteen." Brown eyes both softened and darkened with worry as she asked, "Did – did Sirius never say anything to you about it?"

The smile he gave her was twisted he knew; he didn't need her fleeting grimace to tell him that. "When would he have had the chance? He was in Azkaban for the majority of my life, then on the run, and then he was locked up in Grimmauld Place, wasting away with the memories of his family. When would he have had a moment to tell me? Someone else was almost always present," he reminded her.

"Professor Lupin?"

"He probably considered me too young in our third year to discuss it," he answered and couldn't help the resentful note in his voice. Remus would forever remain the best professor he had ever had and he had respected the older man greatly, but the fact remained that Remus had often considered him too young for various things – never mind that even at thirteen years old he had had already experienced far more horror than most adults would in their entire life. Remus had wanted to give him the chance to remain a child for just a bit longer, but Harry hadn't been 'just' a child in a long time before he met the older man. "And when I saw him back later on, the war had already started."

"Dumbledore?" She looked apprehensive now, probably guessing the answer already.

He didn't even deign that question worthy of a reply and just stared at her flatly. She uttered a sigh and nodded in resignation.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I really thought you knew about it," she said, looking ashamed and regretful.

All the anger and frustration abruptly left him and he sagged down in the armchair, running his hands through his hair. "How do people know which Class someone is?" he asked flatly; the question serving more as a way to distract him from the upcoming panic than out of real interest.

"You don't unless they tell you," Hermione responded after a short pause. "It's something very private, so you're not supposed to shout it from the roofs."

"Well, you obviously know mine now; what are you?" He looked up, reclining against the back of the chair. The cloth of the cushions rustled softly as he adjusted himself.

"Beta," she promptly replied and shrugged almost bashfully. "Not much change happened."

He nodded slowly. "And Ron?"

"Beta too."

Harry considered this for a while, until a memory from months ago drifted to the surface and he straightened up. "Was Draco referring to these Classes then when he asked me whether I was an O-type the first night we slept together?" he asked abruptly; only vaguely uncomfortable at mentioning his sex life to one of his best friends. She had found him vomiting and expelling all kinds of other bodily fluids after a particular nasty fight once – they were practically past feeling shame at this point.

Hermione appeared taken aback at first, but nodded. "Yes, the Classes are commonly abbreviated to A-type, B-type and O-type."

"If this whole thing is supposed to be so private, why did he ask me about it then?" he questioned perplexed. As a Pureblood and raised by Narcissa and Lucius, Draco would be more than aware of all the social rules one had to follow in the Wizarding society. There was no way he wouldn't know that enquiring after a Class type was supposed to be taboo.

She cocked her head to the right slightly, looking pensive. "I suppose he asked precisely because you were going to have sex," she replied, crossing her ankles and resting them underneath the table. "If he had known you're an O-type, he would have taken the necessary precautions to make sure you wouldn't become pregnant, I assume."

Harry frowned, rapping his fingers against his left knee. "Yeah, about that – Draco and I have been having sex for months now. Why didn't I, you know, get knocked up the first time we slept together?"

She huffed a gentle laugh. "It's not as if women all get pregnant from the first time having sex with someone," she remarked amused. "Omega men have their own days too when they're more fertile than others, just like women." She cut herself off then; her cheeks reddening fiercely all of a sudden.

Green eyes regarded her suspiciously. "Why are you suddenly so red?"

"Eh, well, I was just thinking about an old wife's tale I read," she said dismissively and cleared her throat.

"What old wife's tale?"

"It's something stupid, Harry, don't worry about - "

"Hermione."

She pursed her lips and pulled up her legs on the couch, settling herself more comfortably against the arm. "Fine, but it's something stupid. In the past they used to believe – and some still do I suppose – that an Omega man's chance at conceiving was heightened when his partner had proven he could take care of him, that they could build a life together. Sort of like a failsafe to prevent the Omega man from having children with the wrong person."

"Proven he could take care of him?" Harry murmured confused. According to Stone he was a month pregnant – if that old tale was true, what had happened a month ago that would make his body decide that having a child was a good idea?

What had they been doing a month ago …

He inhaled sharply, shock settling in, as he realised what had occurred a month ago. Harry had been hit with the fever curse and Draco had remained with him to take care of him. Was that it? Was that how Draco had supposedly 'proven' himself to Harry's Omega side?

"It's ridiculous, of course, because our bodies might have adapted, but the Classes aren't a conscious entity in us," Hermione was saying, working up to a spectacular rant. "Not to mention how incredibly caveman like that idea is!"

Harry let out the occasional hum in response, knowing she would like at least some kind of verbal confirmation that he was listening, but the truth was that his mind was in a completely different place than Hermione's issues with the Classes system.

Because he had a very big problem now. A problem that had the potential of fucking over his life severely.

He would have the pleasant task of informing Draco that not only did he indeed turn out to be an Omega, but he was also pregnant on top of that.

Great. That was going to be lovely to explain.

* * *

He didn't know how.

How was he supposed to inform his casual bedpartner turned boyfriend that he was pregnant? That he indeed was an 'O-type' as Draco had referred to it before? They had never talked about having children – and why would they when they had only been officially together for nearly three weeks now? Sure, they had been sleeping together for several months now, but their actual relationship had only started a couple of weeks ago.

Their budding relationship wasn't steady enough yet to welcome a child, the rational part of his mind argued. That part was right, of course. Even if he took into account the previous months they had been sleeping together, their relationship still wouldn't even pass the one year mark. They had known each other for far longer than that, naturally, but the majority of that time had been spent as rivals, even enemies at one point. Only in the last couple of years had their relationship made a complete turn.

A baby was still too early, though. Anyone would agree, especially because Draco hadn't even been aware he could get Harry pregnant. Hell, _Harry himself_ hadn't been aware of that fact until it had been too late.

Why did nobody ever think to tell him these important things until it was already too late? Was it too much to ask to be informed of all the basic need to know topics of the Wizarding World?

Apparently it was and now he was in deep shit.

What was he supposed to do now? Keeping it a secret was out of the question, given that he would most likely start showing in a couple of months unless …

A loud sigh of frustration escaped him and he threw down the quill on his desk, staring broodily at the report he was supposed to work on. He was alone; Ron was still stuffing his mouth with lunch, but Harry hadn't been particularly in the mood to eat and had left his friend behind in the pub. The various smells of different lunch plates had clashed in the air, making him slightly nauseous and he had figured that working on the report would be time well spent instead of listlessly poking at his sandwich.

The problem was that he couldn't concentrate. His mind kept mulling about the news he had received two weeks ago and he was acutely aware of time ticking by steadily. So far only Hermione and Stone knew that he was pregnant. He had made Hermione swear not to tell Ron yet, fibbing that it wouldn't be fair if Ron knew first before the actual father, but the truth was that he didn't want to deal yet with Ron's reaction. Sure, he had reacted remarkably civilized at the notion that his best friend was now officially dating a Malfoy, but there was a stark and large difference between accepting the dating part and accepting that his best friend was expecting a baby of the other wizard.

And Draco … Given Draco's question during their first night together, it was clear he wasn't considering having children just yet and the dark haired man couldn't exactly blame him for that. They had started out as something casual and fun and only recently became serious about it – a baby didn't fit yet.

He had … weighted his options these past two weeks. His breath escaped slowly through his teeth as he cast a glance at his stomach. It was still flat, of course, and firm thanks to the training and the various duels he was in. Aurors in the field had to be in great condition after all. But he wouldn't remain this way for much longer. How much time did he have left before his body would betray his secret? Two months, three months? Maybe four? But that would probably be pushing it.

He wouldn't be able to do any kind of field work for quite some time. It wouldn't be safe after all. So desk duty? That would probably drive him mad after a while, but he wouldn't really have a choice.

Unless he terminated it. There was still time for that, the pamphlets stated. He had snatched them from the hospital a week ago when he had pretended to visit a colleague, had stuffed them in his pocket as quickly as he could once he had been certain nobody was in the vicinity. He had needed information and he was adamant that for once he wouldn't go to Hermione for it. She would only start interrogating him again, asking him and then insisting he should tell Draco about this, getting upset at his evasive answers. He knew he should tell Draco, but …

What if there was nothing to tell? The secret was his, it was his body, he was the one making the decision. If he went through with it – the pamphlets gave him around two more months to undergo the procedure – then he wouldn't need to tell Draco about it. The blond would be none the wiser and Harry could find a good moment to inform him he was an Omega. He had even looked up the contraception charms – and wasn't that something he thought he would never have to use? – to prevent another accident in the future.

Just one appointment, swearing the Healer to secrecy, and it would all be over. Just like that. Draco would never need to know.

He had thought about it these past two weeks a lot, even remaining awake longer at night because his brain was incapable of shutting down quickly. He considered the pros and the contras, imagined the various ways Draco could react to the news. Tried to envision how it would be to take care of this child. He was helping Andromeda raise Teddy, yes, so he wasn't completely clueless about child rearing, but it was … It was still different. Helping raise Teddy and raising his own baby; that wasn't entirely the same.

Would Draco support him? Would he still want to be with him? Or would he think Harry had tricked him, that he had lied to him? That possibility existed. And it frightened him to be honest. He was still coming to terms with everything he had been told about the Classes and the news of his pregnancy – losing Draco on top of that because of his stupid biology …

It would hurt, no doubt about that.

If Draco knew about it, there was a chance he would choose to distance himself from it, to reject the baby and Harry consequently. If Harry terminated the pregnancy and never spoke about it, he couldn't possibly lose Draco through that. Perhaps they would break up in the future, but it wouldn't be because of an accidental pregnancy.

However … Harry couldn't.

He had walked around with the idea of terminating it for a couple of days; the thought lingering in the back of his mind as he went through the motions of his job, as he kissed Draco when they met up, as hands caressed and stroked his body, lips rubbing against his lovingly.

He had thought about it – and realised he couldn't go through with it. The timing was far from ideal, he risked losing Draco over this, he was still trying to get used to the thought of being an Omega – but he just couldn't. Maybe it was his Omega side – even though Hermione kept insisting the Classes weren't a conscious entity – but Harry balked at the thought of going through with the procedure. If he took that potion, if he went through the cramps and the bleeding while a Healer was nearby in case of an emergency, he would never forgive himself.

No, the timing wasn't exactly perfect, but … It wasn't that bad either. He could lose Draco over this or he could still have him; both options remained on the table as long as the blond didn't know about it.

Getting rid of the baby, though, was no longer on the table. It wasn't an option anymore.

Now he just had to inform Draco about his upcoming fatherhood – and hope he would get the chance to explain everything before the other man would assume he had been tricked.

A knock on the door shook him out of his reverie and he blinked, a bit disoriented. Sitting up straight, he called out, "Yes?"

Sarah Green – an Auror who had started one year after Harry – poked her head inside, pushing her long, black curls impatiently behind her shoulders. "Kingsley wants to speak to you, Harry," she remarked. Her left arm was still in a swing; the bones fractured and broken in several places during a fight a couple of days ago.

"Did he say why?" Harry rose up, stuffing the report in his drawer for now. Was it a new mission?

She shrugged. "No, just that he needed to speak to you as soon as possible."

"All right, thanks for letting me know, Sarah."

She nodded and disappeared, most likely going back to her own desk where she was confined to for as long as it took for her arm to heal.

He didn't meet anyone on his way to Kingsley; most Aurors were either eating lunch or were gone on a mission. Kingsley's office was at the end of a long corridor; the door made of a thicker wood than that of the other offices. He knocked on it; the sound echoing a bit in the empty corridor.

"Come in!" Kingsley's voice drifted through the door.

"You asked for me, sir?" Harry closed the door behind him, looking questioningly at the other man.

Kingsley nodded and smiled, gesturing for Harry to take a seat. "Yes, I did. This won't take long, I promise."

"A new mission, sir?" Harry inquired curiously, sinking down in the chair in front of the large desk. "Ron's still eating lunch."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, looking slightly bemused. "No, not a new mission. I received a message from Healer Stone."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would he sent you a message?" he asked perplexed. Healers only had contact with the Head Auror if the latter came to inform himself about the state of one of his Aurors after a battle.

"When it comes to certain conditions, the Healer is required to give me the information so that I can take precautions," Kingsley replied calmly, folding his hands over the report he had been perusing before Harry had entered the office.

"Certain conditions?" Harry repeated slowly; an alarm going off in the back of his mind.

"You didn't inform me you're pregnant," Kingsley stated, but his eyes were warm instead of chiding.

With a groan the dark haired man slumped back in the chair, running his hands over his face. "That's because I'm still wrapping my mind around it that I am. I didn't even know I could have children," he admitted reluctantly.

The older wizard nodded slowly. "Well, first of all congratulations," he smiled. If he thought it odd that Harry hadn't known he could become pregnant, he didn't show it. "That brings me to the point of this meeting, though. Given your condition, it would be very ill advised if you continued your regular work. As of now you're placed on desk duty up until you'll take your leave."

Harry swallowed, but inclined his head, having realised as well that chasing criminals in his current state would be more than downright stupid. "What about Ron?"

"He'll be partnered with someone else in the meantime."

"Can you – not tell him what the real reason for my desk duty is?" Harry requested hesitatingly.

"You haven't told him yet?"

"No, eh, I'm planning on doing it soon, but …"

Kingsley raised a hand and shook his head smiling. "I understand. My cousin also wanted to wait until she felt it was safe to inform everyone." His eyes twinkled. "Don't worry, I won't tell him the truth. I'll just tell him it's because you need to catch up on your paperwork."

"Well, he'll definitely believe that," Harry grumbled with a light grimace. "Thanks, Kingsley."

"No problem. I'll let you get back to your work."

Well, at least he would make progress with his paperwork from now on.

* * *

A couple of weeks and some mornings spent hanging over a toilet, Harry decided enough was enough and he needed to inform Draco now. Soon he wouldn't be able to hide it any longer; already he thought he could feel the barest hint of a bump forming when he placed his hand on his stomach. With him having entered his third month, he thought it would be safe enough to confess. He remembered hearing – when he was much younger and listening secretly to the television at the Dursleys – that the first three months were tricky. He didn't know whether that warning counted for him too, but he'd rather not take any chances.

He regretted not telling Draco earlier about this – if the blond would become angry about this, he wouldn't exactly blame him – but what if he had told him and afterwards it had ended badly?

But he was three months far now and it was high time he told the father of his baby about him or her. Either Draco would react well … or not. If he didn't react well … Harry would just have to figure out what to do then later.

The green flames spat him out in Draco's small foyer and he took a moment to regain his balance; falling flat on his face would not do at all.

"Draco?" he called out, surprised to not be met with the blond immediately. Furrowing his eyebrows, he checked his watch. Six thirty, like they had agreed yesterday.

Muffled footsteps sounded above him and when Harry entered the hallway, Draco appeared on the top of the staircase. He was adjusting his collar and Harry's breath hitched when he took in how the blond looked like. He wore magnificent, midnight blue robes, trimmed with silver; the deep blue and the subtle silver colours made his eyes stand out, their own colour luminous. Not even the sky darkening outside, promising a heavy bout of rain or even snow could temper those blazing steel grey eyes.

Eyes which were currently assessing him disapprovingly. "You're not dressed," Draco chided him, descending the stairs swiftly.

Harry looked down, cocking his eyebrow as he briefly considered his ensemble of a dark blue sweater and black trousers. He had made a quick stop at his own place to change out of his Auror robes. "I'm pretty sure I'm wearing clothes," he commented dryly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Did you forget? We're attending the Christmas ball at Malfoy Manor," he reminded the younger wizard.

Harry froze and cursed, rubbing his forehead briskly. "Shit, I forgot," he admitted with a groan. Nervous as he was at the prospect of informing Draco he would be a father, it had completely slipped his mind that they were supposed to attend an early Christmas party today.

"And this is why house elves come in handy," Draco snorted, clapping his hands together. "Dippy!"

Immediately a house elf – still a young one by the lack of wrinkles – popped up right next to Draco. Dressed in a simple grey loincloth, Dippy regarded his master with big, light blue eyes. "Yes, Master Draco Malfoy?" he squeaked.

"Harry and I will be attending the Christmas party at Malfoy Manor; make sure Harry is dressed appropriately," Draco ordered, gesturing towards the dark haired man.

"Draco, there really isn't any need for - "

"You're not going to attend my parents' party dressed like that, Harry," Draco sniffed, throwing a disdainful look at his clothes.

Harry wrinkled his nose, but knew that resistance was futile when Draco was in this particular mood. He could protest, throw a fit or try to talk his way out of this, but the end game would remain the same: him dressed in new robes. The only difference would be how long it would take to get him dressed. Considering the way Dippy was eyeing him almost maniacally, he doubted it would take long.

"Fine, but before we leave, can I talk to you?" Harry gave in, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"We don't have that much time anymore," Draco admonished him sharply. "Is the matter really pressing?"

Well, he had been keeping it a secret for a few weeks now; he supposed it couldn't be really called that pressing overall. Stomach doing a flip-flop, Harry answered, "Eh no, it can wait a bit longer."

Draco nodded, his features relaxing, and then he kissed Harry softly, squeezing his fingers fleetingly. "All right, I'll be waiting for you in the foyer."

His stomach churning, Harry swallowed and followed Dippy upstairs, where he allowed the house elf to take his measurements and work his magic on his clothes.

Perhaps it would be better to wait until after the party; this wasn't news he could rush after all and he didn't want to ruin the party in case Draco didn't react that positively.

He just had to wait a little bit longer; what was a few more hours anyway?

* * *

"The party too overwhelming?"

The soft voice piping up behind him startled him and he hastily retracted his hand from where he had been reaching out to grab a book from the shelf. He was in the grand library, having escaped the party in the ballroom in favour of the quiet solitude of the library. A spark of amusement briefly flared up as he mused that his retreat to the library made him resemble Hermione in the regard.

He turned around, smiling sheepishly as he lowered his hand. "Just needed some space from the … attention I was getting."

The party itself wasn't too loud or overwhelming, but witch after witch and wizard after wizard insisted on talking to him, mostly about subjects he knew nothing about. He would have used Draco as a shield, as the other man thrived in social events as this one, but he had lost sight of him once Lucius had drawn him into a conversation.

The longer he had remained downstairs, surrounded by people he didn't know and yet who still insisted on talking to him as if they were old friends, the more unease had started to build up until he had slipped out of the ballroom in search for some peace and quiet.

Narcissa nodded in understanding, but instead of leaving, she entered the room completely, drawing the doors shut behind her. Her silver blue robes glittered in an otherworldly way, making her look like some kind of ancient goddess with her long, blonde hair cascading down like a waterfall and her slender hands nearly completely covered by her sheer looking sleeves.

She was unbelievably beautiful and not for the first time Harry realised Draco had got his beauty from his mother.

"Given that my son hasn't told me the news yet, I assume you haven't informed him yet?" she inquired serenely, folding her hands in front of her stomach.

Harry gazed at her confused, but when she looked meaningfully at his lower stomach, everything clicked and he flushed. Reflexively his hands slid to cover his stomach as if protecting it from her knowing gaze. "Eh no, I – I haven't told him yet," he replied, voice wavering slightly.

"I assumed correctly then." She pursed her lips together and the warmth in her gaze cooled slightly; her eyes gaining an edge that had Harry unconsciously taking a few stumbling steps backwards. "He didn't mention you're an Omega."

"That's because I only found out that I'm one a few weeks ago," he answered, more defensively than he had wanted. He didn't want her to think he was tricking her son, though.

She blinked, seemingly surprised. "You didn't know?" she murmured; her face gaining a distant look.

He shrugged stiffly. "Nobody told me about the Classes."

"How did you find out then?"

"I had to go to the hospital a while back after a battle and the Healer told me my results came back positive for pregnancy," he explained, wrapping his arms around himself. "Hermione explained everything to me afterwards."

She nodded slowly. "I'm sorry you had to find out about the Classes like that," she spoke and her demeanour shifted again, turning friendly once more. "Has Draco told you what he is?"

"No, the Classes are supposed to be private, right?" he recalled Hermione's explanation.

"They are, yes," she agreed and wandered closer. "I'm not going to reveal my son's Class – he wouldn't forgive me if I told you in his stead." She smiled faintly.

"How, eh, how do you know I'm pregnant?" Harry asked tentatively. "Is this – is that something some Classes can do?"

She laughed gently; a melodious sound which trickled down around him like warm water. Amused she answered, "If that was an ability tied to my Class, my son would already have known even without you telling him."

So whichever Class Narcissa was, Draco was too; not that that really helped him eliminate the options. All three Classes were still possible.

"No, I merely assumed correctly because of the certain glow you have surrounding you. I've been pregnant before; I know which symptoms to look for," she explained smiling.

"Oh." He blushed, feeling a tad embarrassed.

"A word of advice," she suddenly said, capturing his attention immediately. "Our Class tends to be … quite protective of our partners. My son more so when he finds out that you're pregnant. Lucius was the same way back when I was carrying Draco."

"Well, I suppose protectiveness isn't that weird?" Harry hedged, frowning slightly.

Her blonde hair glistened when she dipped her head. "Perhaps not, but the protectiveness of our Class is amplified during pregnancies. As you apparently weren't sufficiently prepared for this, I'll give you some advice: be careful of who you come into contact with. Some Classes will provoke a – more extreme reaction in my son than others."

His frown deepened; just how much did he still not know? "How extreme are we - "

" _Mother._ "

A guttural growl cut straight through Harry's question and he twisted around sharply; his eyes widening when he caught sight of Draco. The older man was looming in the doorway; the lights of the hallway casting shadows over his face. His eyes were burning, though, glowing eerily as they landed on Narcissa.

She raised her hands as if surrendering and took a few steps back. Away from Harry, he realised somewhere in the back of his mind. The rest of his attention was focused on the way Draco resembled some kind of predator, tense like a panther ready to pounce.

"Did your father finally release you?" she asked mildly. "I think it's safe to assume you're happy to be back with your partner again."

Draco blinked and relaxed, leaning casually against the doorjamb now. "He's looking for you," he confirmed; his gaze drifting towards Harry now.

She nodded, smiling serenely. "I'll leave you two alone then." She almost seemed to float above the floor; her footsteps not making any sound as she walked towards Draco. She paused next to him and looked at him in a peculiar way. Nothing was said between mother and son, though, and she drifted out of the library as silently as she had entered it.

Draco closed the door behind him quite firmly. "You weren't downstairs," he remarked, closing the distance between him and Harry in a couple of long, quick strides.

"Just needed to get away from it for a while and I couldn't find you immediately," Harry admitted, leaning his arse against the sturdy, dark wooden table behind him.

"You could have asked a house elf for help," the blond pointed out with a frown, coming to a halt right in front of the dark haired man.

Harry smiled wryly. "Didn't think of it."

Draco shook his head, letting out a long suffering sigh. His hand reached out, curling his fingers around Harry's. "You want to go back now? I promise I won't leave you on your own from now on."

Harry exhaled slowly, acutely aware of how silent the library was. There was only their breathing; none of the music or the chattering or laughter downstairs could penetrate through the bubble of silence surrounding them. Perhaps it was a spell; perhaps the materials the manor was built with cancelled all sounds on their own. If he hadn't been at the party himself, he could fancy he was completely alone with Draco in the manor now.

Narcissa's warning lingered in his mind and his fingers spasmed around Draco's; his stomach feeling knotted all of a sudden. He didn't exactly understand what her warning had been about, but he couldn't keep silent about this.

"Draco, there's something I need to talk about with you." Despite spoken softly, his words seemed to ring loudly in the large library, bouncing back and forth between the hundreds of books lined up the shelves.

Draco stilled, studying him with unreadable eyes. "Now?"

"Yeah, now."

The blond pursed his lips, retracting his hand. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"What? No!" Harry exclaimed shocked, waving his hands in denial. "No, why would you think that?"

"What else am I supposed to think when you look so solemn?" Draco huffed, crossing his arms.

Running his hands through his hair, paying no attention to Draco's irritated cluck of his tongue at the gesture, he briefly turned away from the blond, gathering his thoughts together. This was it; he would finally tell Draco what he has been keeping a secret for weeks now.

"Harry?"

He took a deep breath and his stomach did an odd flip when he faced Draco again. The older man was regarding him with a frown, but worry lurked in the depths of his eyes.

"I – there are two things I need to tell you," Harry started haltingly, linking his hands together behind his back to cease fiddling with his fingers.

"Okay," Draco said slowly, apprehensively.

"The first thing is that – I didn't know about the Classes," Harry admitted and bit down on his lower lip.

Grey eyes blinked. "What do you mean, you didn't know about the Classes?"

"Just as I said: I didn't know the Classes existed until a few weeks ago." His stomach was no longer doing flips but actively rolling now and he prayed he wouldn't have to throw up. Still nausea lingered in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed with some difficulty.

"How can you not have known about it? It's something everyone's taught once they reach the proper age," Draco questioned perplexed, looking honestly stumped at the thought that someone could have been ignorant of the Classes for so long.

His lips twisted in a bitter parody of a smile. "Well, it's not like I had parents who could have told me."

Draco winced visibly, but shouldered on, "But my cousin, Sirius Black - "

"Never was really alone with him and he died before he could tell me."

"Lupin?"

"I don't think he would have considered himself to be the right person to tell me," Harry snorted, crossing his arms as well.

"Surely that old coot …"

"Dumbledore was never really forthcoming with information. He also thought I would be dead before I turned eighteen years old, so I suspect he didn't see the use in telling me," Harry replied lightly and shrugged.

Draco rubbed his temples and pursed his lips. "You honestly didn't know anything about this?"

"No, nothing until Hermione explained it to me."

"But I asked you at the start whether you were an O-type …" Draco trailed off, lowering his arms slowly. He narrowed his eyes. "You said you weren't. If you didn't know what the Classes are, how - "

The younger man cleared his throat and looked away embarrassed. "I thought you were talking about blood types, okay? And since I have blood type A …"

"Why the hell would I be talking about blood types?" Draco asked exasperatedly, shaking his head.

Harry turned his head to face him again, scowling. "I don't know! Maybe there was some sort of ridiculous Pureblood rule that said you couldn't sleep with people of blood type O. Not like all your rules make sense!"

"Oh my god," Draco groaned and closed his eyes momentarily as he briskly rubbed his hands across his face. "Blood types. Of all the … You know what? I'm not even that surprised that you thought about something like that."

Harry bristled offended and glared at the other wizard. It wasn't his fault nobody ever told him these things on time!

"How did you find out about the Classes then?" Draco demanded.

"I had to go to Saint Mungos a while ago after a battle," Harry started and the nervous butterflies were now more like raging gnomes, stampeding around in his stomach. "The Healer, he – my results gave away which Class I am."

"There wouldn't be any need to cast the Class Spell on you at your age," Draco muttered seemingly to himself. "Especially not after you came to the hospital to receive treatment for your wounds. The results of that spell work can't reveal your Class unless …"

Harry held his breath at the sudden silence that fell, not daring to even move a muscle. He could see on Draco's face that he was puzzling the pieces together, mulling over the information he had just received and linking that to things he knew already.

"Harry, which Class are you?" Draco sounded eerily calm as if he was just discussing the ingredients list of a potion he had compiled. When Harry dared to look into his eyes, though, he shivered at the way they appeared to glow, even though his back was towards the light source.

"Omega."

The announcement was like a hammer slamming down; a final thunderclap. It hovered between them, explaining everything without needing any words. It didn't need more explanation. Draco was smart enough to figure out that Harry finding out his Class through his medical results could only have happened because of one cause. Steel grey eyes tracked Harry's body slowly, lingering at his waist.

"How long?"

"Three months."

The blond man closed his eyes; his face a pure blank mask. "How many people know about it?"

"The Healer. Hermione because she was there with me at the time. Kingsley knows because the Healer sent him a message. And – and your mother discovered it just now. Said she recognised the symptoms because of her own pregnancy." Harry's mouth felt oddly dry; his voice scratchy as he answered. Irrationally he scolded himself for not having thought of bringing a drink with him when he escaped the ballroom.

"Does Weasley know?"

"No. I haven't told him yet."

"But you're still working." Silver grey eyes sharpened; Draco's features growing darker.

"Desk duty. Until I have to take my leave."

"And Weasley doesn't think that's strange?"

"He thinks it's my punishment of Kingsley for not finishing my paperwork on time."

"He believes that?" Draco sneered; his upper lip curling up.

"He hasn't pestered me about it yet, so …" Harry licked his lips. "I assume he believes it, yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Anger coloured Draco's voice, but there was the underlying current of hurt, of betrayal too and Harry flinched, guilt once more surging upwards.

"Because I was trying to digest what I had been told. I never knew about the Three Classes until that hospital visit and suddenly I'm an Omega and I'm pregnant and I," Harry swallowed, shrugging helplessly, "I – I didn't know what to do. I remembered what you asked me before and – everything was just too much at once. I wanted to tell you sooner, but … I was scared," he admitted quietly.

"Are you planning on keeping the baby?"

Harry nodded; his fingers digging into his biceps. His legs felt all jelly like suddenly and he braced himself against the edge of the table, hoping he wouldn't collapse. That would be beyond embarrassing. "I want to keep the baby. I don't think I could forgive myself if I – if I terminated this pregnancy," he confessed and looked at Draco, taking in and memorizing his features. Maybe this would be the last time Draco would want to be near him. Resignation cloaked his voice when he continued, "I'd understand if you don't want the baby and want to break up. I'm not going to force the baby on you, but I …"

"I didn't exactly envision becoming a father this early," Draco said abruptly; his face still unnervingly blank.

Harry pressed his lips tightly together and nodded tersely. He understood, he really did; Draco had been clear at the start that he wasn't interested in children, but … He hadn't realised how much it would hurt to hear Draco rejecting the baby, rejecting him.

"And I wish you had come to me sooner instead of working yourself up into this ridiculous tizzy," Draco went on and scowled.

Anger sparked and Harry glowered right back. "There's nothing ridiculous about - !"

"I'm in it if you are."

Harry jerked back, disoriented as if he had just sustained a blow to the head. "What?"

"I'm ready to become a father if you are," Draco repeated calmly, but his fingers were twitching slightly near his hips – a sign Harry had come to read as Draco being nervous.

"You don't have to," Harry started, but was abruptly cut off by a pair of impatient lips and fingers clenched black strands between them, tilting his head back so that Draco could attack his mouth, making use of his startled gasp to slip his tongue inside.

Draco pulled back just as abruptly, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glittering as he glared at the dark haired man. "But I want to," he snapped. "You think I'm going to bail on you? Fuck that! You're stuck with me now, Potter. Get used to that! I want this baby, you want this baby, so we're keeping him or her. It's that simple."

Still, Harry couldn't help but inquire nervously, "Draco, are you really sure you want - "

"I'm sure, yes. More than sure." His eyes gleamed when his arm slipped down to Harry's back, curving around his waist. "Let me prove to you just how sure I am," he whispered against parted lips.

And then the world was nothing but blazing heat, soft touches, and tender caresses. Kisses that drowned Harry and tender gazes which had him hiding his face against a bare shoulder, pushing back hot tears.

They were okay. More than okay even.

* * *

"What kind of Class are you then?" Harry inquired curiously; his fingers tracing idle designs across Draco's back. There were faint, red welts running down from his shoulder blades to his arse; evidence of their lovemaking earlier at the library.

They hadn't stayed much longer at Malfoy Manor. After the first two times, with Harry sleepy and satiated, Draco had dressed himself, bundled Harry in his clothes and had carried him towards his old wing, using the fireplace there to Floo towards Draco's home.

"Alpha," Draco murmured; his eyes half lidded as his own hand wandered up and down over Harry's stomach. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he commented lightly, "I still can't believe you reached your age without knowing about the Classes."

Harry groaned dismayed and smacked Draco's back in retaliation. "Stop making fun of me! It's not my fault people keep hiding important information from me until it's too late!" He squinted suspiciously at Draco. "There's nothing else I need to know? Like that you're a Veela because you have Veela ancestors or so and I'm your destined mate?"

Draco's body shook with mirth as he laughed, hiding his face in his pillow while Harry poked him petulantly in his side.

"I'm serious!" Harry exclaimed, but a smile was threatening to spread out across his face too. "So? Veela or not? Can I expect you to pop wings any second now? What about a beak? Or talons?"

"No Veela ancestors in my family!" Draco chuckled, shifting his head to look at Harry. "Why? You want to be a Veela's mate?" he teased; eyes shining brightly.

"Pity," Harry mock pouted. "You'd look quite magnificent with wings I think."

Grey eyes rolled. "Sorry to disappoint you, love," he drawled, hooking his leg behind Harry's knee. "But I'm not going to turn into a Veela."

"Hm, so no other revelations that I really need to know?"

"None as far as I can recall."

Harry nodded satisfied, shuffling closer to his lover. "Good, because it's getting annoying being left in the dark all the time," he huffed and looked contemplatively at Draco's shoulder. "Maybe I should give up on being an Auror and become a writer."

"A writer? And what would you write then? How not to be an oblivious little shit?" Draco snorted, smirking when Harry pinched his side.

"An introduction to the Wizarding World; there's a serious need of guidebooks like that," Harry mused. "Would prevent a lot of trouble I think."

"And yet that particular trouble only seems to find you," Draco pointed out smirking.

"Aren't you supposed to be supportive of me?" Harry complained and then gasped surprised when he was rolled onto his back, Draco settling on top of him.

"Why don't I show you just how supportive I am?" Draco purred and dipped his head, locking their mouths together in a deep, bordering on filthy kiss.

A how to wizard guide actually didn't sound that bad. _But_ , Harry thought as he linked his arms around Draco's neck and gave himself over to him, _there are far more important things right now._

Like the man between his legs and the baby growing slowly but steadily in his belly.

Perhaps this time it wasn't so bad that he had remained in the dark for so long. Because he had Draco and a baby on the way; there were worse things to come out from his obliviousness he was sure.

Emerald green eyes glittered as brightly as its namesake gem as Harry accepted Draco in his body. "I love you," he whispered against reddened lips.

A hand came to rest on his belly and a mouth curled into a smile against his own. "I love you too."

Yeah, a how to wizard guide would be great, but this, Draco and their baby …

This was infinitely better.

 **The End**

* * *

 **AN2: I admit that some scenes - particularly the last ones - gave me some trouble, but I hope they're not too bad! And I hope the ending scene wasn't too bad either ^^;**

 **Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me!**

 **I hope to see you all back in my future stories!**

 **Cuddles**

 **Melissa**

 **P.S. For more information about my upcoming and posted stories, please visit my profile.**


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